delirium
by MYZ-chan
Summary: The fall to madness is not so slow after all.  -TykiWisely-


_v._

"…unstable…."

Lights. People. Blurry. So blurry can't really hear jumbled jumbling hurts hurts HURTS

Those stupid scars.

"…ki will not be…"

Irmão? No not him not brother with his happy smile and controlling hands. Not brother because brother is gone. Deus, brother is dead.

Can't remember how.

Girl. Young. Short black hair. Supposed to have candy. Supposed to have candy in her hands makes her happy should go out get some for her love her so much. Beloved girl why so sad? Hush little girl don't say a word mama's going to buy you

No. No that's not right is not right.

Laughing laughter in his head in his ears running across his eyes in rampant rhythm and grin shit-eating grin in his head. White teeth covered in blood splintered glass and scars, scars aching hurts so bad help please I don't want to die don't want to lose it. Don't want to lose my black and my white don't want to lose those faceless people and the boy with the silver on a string and that other boy what was his name? The boy with the white hair and zig-zagging eyes

What was his name?

"…likely to not survive the year, at this rate."

Angry.

Lunging for the little girl and there's smashing and screaming and people restraining and yelling things stuff shit and pushing him down under the water white-haired boy shaking him by the shoulders and staring at him with angry gold eyes amongst thin ravaged scars and and and

so sad

_Tyki, wake up!_

And then he closes his eyes.

* * *

_iv._

Can't hear! It hurts it hurts so bad brother where's Road where's the Earl and the twins and everyone where'd they all go and it all hurts, it hurts so bad and he's breaking, shattering Wisely Wisely _Wisely_

Kill me.

White-haired boy in his head and pushing him down trying to calm him. Well he isn't calm never will be calm anymore and it hurts, hurts so bad. The man won't stop laughing and he wants to hurt me he wants to kill me and I would let him. But I can't. I can't.

_Tyki, it's me. It's Wisely. Calm down._

Wisely?

No. You're not Wisely. Wisely wouldn't be pushing me down, he'd be laughing and telling me how much I look like that man that it hurts and I'd say I'm not him I'm not going to hurt you like he did but you have to stop looking inside me and he'd laugh and he'd just say

_Tyki._

No!

At his face in his face. Ripping away chunks and screaming and howling and others are pulling him off and restraining him and brother, where's brother where's Road where's Devit and Jasdero and the Earl and

_Wisely_

The boy is holding his face. So much blood so little time. Golden eyes looking through the cracks of his fingers with the blood and tears dripping through the nails. Does it hurt? Hope it hurts because you're not Wisely and I hate you for lying I hate all you fuckers and why won't you disappear and let the laughing man eat me eat me eat me

And he screams. He screams as they lock him in the room and he can't phase through the walls, can't phase or claw or tear through the walls and he screams, screams and cries and rages.

Brother brother where are you? I'm sorry for pushing you away and telling you all those horrible things but I'm not sorry either and Road, where's Road? I need Road I need all your dreams to shut out the noise all this noise in my head and I need the twin's imaginations and the Earl's magic and Wisely, where's Wisely, he'd shut down this noise in my head and tell me it's okay tell me that it's fine, that I'll be fine soon.

And the madman just laughs. Laughs and laughs and laughs as he falls into the black.

* * *

_iii._

Can't really hear anything above the laughter. Curled up in a bed with the covers pulled over his head, trying to shut it all out. Hurts too bad to think, to breathe. Just listens to the sound of his breathing and the rising and fading sounds of the laughter. Broken radios, broken golems zooming and zig-zagging in the air.

Those damn scars are still aching.

Damn that boy.

Turns over on his side. Stares at the ceiling, breathing lightly heavily laughing, rising and drowning his vision in a haze of red and grinning, grinning teeth and broken glass and pain. So much pain.

_Tyki._

Doesn't react at first. He can't react the haze is still there. Covering his eyes making it hard to breathe.

But he turns.

And it's a boy. Family, because the laughing man grins one last time before fading into the dark. White hair, gold eyes sitting on the edge of the bed with his legs neatly folded Indian-style. Not like he's ever seen an Indian, but isn't that what they always called it? Funny how these things work.

"Good. He's gone."

What was his name?

"Who?" Voice is hoarse. He hasn't used it in days. Been too busy trying to shut out the laughter, the madman in his head.

"The Noah."

Noah.

Brother. Name? Ah, yes. Cyril. Cyril, the lord who is gone and dead. God damn swordsman.

Road. Dreams. All her lovely dreams.

The twins. Idiots.

The Earl.

Wisely.

"That's what you think, Wisely."

And he smiles. He smiles razor sharp and razor thin and too insane, too unlike Tyki. What is Tyki? He can't remember anymore, the black and the white mixing together and curling into smoky, ash-gray.

It hurts so much.

Wisely smiles, impertinent grin etched on his face. Unperturbed by that frightening smile, that smile eating his uncle's face. Leans down. Puts his hand on Tyki's forehead, and the weight is so comforting. So warm and comforting and the smile stops in its tracks. Winds down to heavy eyes and dying laughter.

Funny how these things work.

And Wisely laughs.

"I'd know, wouldn't I?"

* * *

_ii._

"…Tyki? You alright there?"

He looks up, dazed. The laughter is there, inside his head and he can't make it go away, no matter how hard he tries. So, he's not alright. Not alright in here.

But he doesn't say that to his nephew. Instead, he smiles and reaches out, pats his nephew's nest of white hair, earning him a faint scowl and a swat from a bony, ash-gray hand. "Don't worry about it."

Wisely scowls. "I hear him, you know."

Damn. Tyki scowls right back. "I told you not to go rummaging in my head."

"Hard not to. He's pretty loud." Wisely tilts his head, the scowl turning into a small frown as he reaches out, puts his hand on Tyki's temple. Tyki tenses at first—he's still not quite used to his nephew touching him. "He's been getting louder."

Tyki sighs. "I know." He reaches up, takes Wisely's hand in his and presses it to the side of his face. Cold skin, but eventually it warms. "Are you eating? You're all cold again."

Wisely snorts, but he doesn't remove his hand. "Why wouldn't I?"

Tyki shrugs. "Just a thought."

Silence. Briefly before Wisely smirks a little devil's smirk and leans forward, pressing his lips to Tyki's temple. "You're like him, you know," Wisely murmurs. "In so many ways."

Tyki lets his eyes get heavy. Comforting, the feeling of human contact that he doesn't have to phase through. Now after the war, he would have given anything for one of Cyril's idiotic hugs or kisses.

But too late for that.

"I won't betray you," he says, letting a faint smile trickle onto his face as he reaches his other hand up, rests it in Wisely's hair. "I'm not like him in that regard."

Wisely is silent.

And then he breathes out. A heavy sigh that Tyki can feel shuddering his entire being, feel the scars ache again, his and Wisely's.

They have too many scars here.

"I know."

Tyki feels his smile curl against Tyki's temple.

And he smiles too.

* * *

_i._

It's not out of love that Tyki kisses Wisely. It's not love at all.

But Tyki needs. He desires like his brother, dead and gone, he desires for pleasure and for human contact and god, he will take what he can get. Even though they are half-drunk, sitting inside the half-empty mansion passing bottles of vodka back and forth between the two of them, he needs and _needs._

The scars are aching.

That's why he kisses him. Just for a change, for need. For a distraction from the pain.

So he's surprised that when he pulls away, Wisely reaches up and pulls him back. Eventually it ends up with the two of them in the bed, smelling like vodka and glass and sweat and want.

But what does _Wisely_ want? Even though he's twisting and whispering shuddering gasping things in Tyki's ear, he can't hear him very well. Joyd is there again, laughing in his ears and scraping glass against his skull.

He knows it isn't always his name that Wisely's whispering.

And he doesn't care.

But then Wisely rests his hands on Tyki's head when they're done and breathing harsh and naked, oh god they're naked this is ridiculous. They're naked with all their scars in the open and his nephew, his nephew who he just fucked over to next Tuesday is the one who went along with what Tyki wants. He rests his hands on Tyki's head and presses his lips to Tyki's temple.

"Stay with me."

Tyki feels this stupid lump in his throat because god damn it, no one's really needed him before. Not even Wisely, before the war, before the scars and the loss and good-bye brother. But now he does and he's telling him this, telling him even though they both have different needs and wants and desires that they haven't let go of. Wisely's telling his price.

Tyki sighs. "I will."

And then he closes his eyes.

* * *

Another Tyki/Wisely story, but this time it's post-war. God, I'm a sucker for those (even though I think I really screwed up their dynamic in this). XD And I slipped in a hint of Fourteenth/Wisely, just for my own amusement.


End file.
